


Testosterone

by arachnophobic



Series: T is for [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Peter Parker, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Heavy Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, new chapter new tags!, ya boy is going THROUGH it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnophobic/pseuds/arachnophobic
Summary: [teˈstästəˌrōn] nounA steroid hormone that stimulates development of male secondary sexual characteristics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning(s) for this particular chapter:  
> \- Period mention (no graphic description)  
> \- Gender dysphoria (super light)  
> \- Vomiting (no graphic description)
> 
> This fic isn't totally canon with the events of SM:HoCo but I'm drawing more from the characters' personalities and such and a little from the events.

* * *

 

_'_ _Okay Peter let’s see that face,’ May said from behind the camera._

_Peter, sitting on the exam table, looks up at May laughing and his cheeks flush with embarrassment._

_‘Aunt May stop you don’t have to record this’ he says laughing. ‘Of course, I do! This is a big moment! Plus, I’ve got to show this to your Uncle Ben when he gets off work tonight.’_

_Then there is a knock at the door and the nurse walks in, carrying the materials for the injection._

_‘Are you ready Mr. Parker?’ the nurse says, placing the materials on the counter._

_‘Definitely,’ he says, practically bouncing with nervous energy._

_The nurse prepares the injection, explaining how each step as Peter nods eagerly._

_‘Okay all set. Now, are you left or right handed?’ the nurse asked him. ‘Right handed!’_

_‘Okay so then it should be easier for you to do the shot on your left leg, so I’ll do your right so when you do your first one it’ll be on your left.’_

_‘Okay, I can do that,’ he says, looking over towards May._

_Peter pulls the right leg of his shorts up (he made sure to wear loose shorts) and the nurse cleans the area with an alcohol wipe. After letting it dry for a moment, the nurse takes the syringe and shows Peter how much he’s supposed to put in it._

_‘Okay I’ll count to three and then you’ll feel a little pinch. Ready?’_

_Peter nods and flashes a huge grin towards May and the camera._

_‘Alright…3…2,’ on two the nurse sticks the needle in and injects the testosterone into Peter’s thigh._

_She pulls the needle out and wipes the spot with a cotton ball. She places a band-aid on the injection site._

_‘Alright there you go Mr. Parker. Any other questions?’_

_‘No,’ Peter says, his eyes watering, ‘thank you.’_

_‘You did great kiddo,’ the nurse says, putting a hand on his shoulder, ‘you two are good to go then.’_

_The nurse leaves the room and Peter wipes at his eyes and laughs._

_‘What’s going on baby?’ May asks, going over to him._

_‘I’m just so—I just can’t believe this finally happened.’_

_‘Oh honey,’ May says, the camera showing the back wall as she gives him a hug, ‘I’m so proud of you.’_

_‘Thanks May. We should probably go though they probably need this room’_

_‘Oh, right right!’ May turns the camera around so it's facing her, ‘now how do I turn this off?’_

Six months.

He was on testosterone for six months.

He took his shot every week just like he was supposed to (sometimes a day or two late, but that wasn’t his fault). His voice had finally started to change, his period finally stopped, he was finally noticing a change in the way his body looked. But then he got bit by that spider, that stupid, _stupid_ spider, and something went wrong.

He knew something was wrong when he woke up one Wednesday morning (he does his shots on Tuesday nights) feeling irritable and like he had fallen asleep on the sun. He threw back the blanket on his bed trying to cool down and put a hand on his right thigh, feeling for a band-aid, reassurance that he had done his shot the night before (he knows the band-aid isn’t really necessary with his healing factor, but it’s a good way to remember).

When he felt the sticky plastic of the band-aid, he calmed down a little and figured he must just be getting sick or something. The irritability and hot flashes only got worse as the week went on, but Peter was too focused on school finals and decathlon and patrolling to pay attention to how he was feeling. When the next Tuesday came around and he was able to take his next shot, he felt immensely better but only until the next morning. That morning he woke up with the same irritable and slept-on-the-sun feeling but this time he didn’t even bother checking for a band-aid; he knew for sure he had done his shot. He was going to just ignore it again when he felt an all too familiar cramping in his abdomen. He jumped out of his bed and ran to his bathroom and his fear was confirmed. Seeing the blood made his head spin and he felt bile rise in his throat, he barely made it to the sink before throwing up.

“May!” he choked out between sobs, sliding to the floor.

“Peter? What is it honey, what’s wrong?” May said, coming into the bathroom. “Some-something’s wrong. I-I think I’m on on my p-period,” he said, curling further into himself.

“Oh honey,” May crouched down next to him, running a hand through his hair, “I’ll call the doctor okay? We’ll figure this out okay?”

Peter just nods, trying to stop the sobs that are wracking his body. May sits down on the floor next to him and wraps one arm around him, using the other to rub his back.

“This isn’t fair May, why is this happening to me?” Peter says after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know but we’ll figure this out, okay?” she said, wiping the tears from Peter’s cheeks, “we’ll figure this out.”

May had taken him back to the endocrinologist who basically explained that for some reason she couldn’t figure out, Peter’s body was absorbing the testosterone too quickly. The doctor had explained that since she wasn’t sure how quickly his body was absorbing the testosterone injections or how much was actually staying in his body each time, she would have to run some tests and possibly have him stay overnight at a hospital for monitoring, but even then, she may still not be able to find a solution.

Peter didn’t care though, he had figured out what the problem was, the stupid, stupid spider bite, and he knew he couldn’t go for any tests, so he just told her no. She had started explaining that he could keep taking the weekly injections but would likely stop seeing changes and may even see some of the changes that already happened to reverse, but Peter didn’t care he just got up and walked out of the exam room, not turning around when he heard the doctor and May calling for him to stop. He just walked out of the building and sat on a bench out front and cried and cried and cried even when he felt May sitting next to him, wrapping an arm around him, and whispering reassuring words into his curly hair.

That was nearly a month ago (23 days, 9 hours, and 17 minutes, but Peter wasn’t counting).

He’d barely left his room since that appointment, thankful for the summer vacation that allowed him to wallow in his dysphoria and self-loathing.

When he wasn’t curled up under his blanket or forcing himself to take bites of the food May would leave for him or watching the videos of his transition, he was furiously scribbling in his notebook, trying to figure out a new formula for the testosterone, trying to find a way to make it last longer.

Peter stares at the screen that had been playing the old video, frustration rising in his throat. He presses his palms into eyes, trying to stop himself from crying again. He slams the laptop shut with more force than he intended and puts his head down on his desk.

“Okay,” he says to himself, “I gotta try this again. I can do this.”

He grabbed his notebook and pen, flipping back to where he’d left off the last time he managed to convince himself to work. He had been working on the formula on and off for weeks without any luck. He runs his hand through his hair and picks up where he left off, the process of trying to solve the chemistry problem providing a slight comfort.

Suddenly, he drops his pen. His eyes rapidly scan over his work.

“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly. He jumps out of his chair, knocking it over in the process, clutching the notebook.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he says, putting a hand to his forehead and letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He had a formula that he was almost 100% would work. The only thing he would need was a lab, some equipment, and materials, but he could _do it_. He could start testosterone again if he could just get to a lab.

Mr. Stark.

Before things had been going wrong with his injections, he had been going to the man’s lab fairly regularly, whether it was to work on his suit or to just toss ideas back and forth for future projects. Peter hadn’t contacted him since the endo appointment and he had dozens of missed calls and texts from both Tony and Happy. Peter felt a pang of guilt in his stomach, knowing that they were both concerned, but it was quickly dismissed by his excitement.

He began tearing through his drawers, shaking the blanket on his bed trying to find his phone when he heard a *clunk* next to his bedside table. He threw the blanket back on the bed and scrambled to grab his phone. He quickly found the man’s contact and dialed his number.

“Well well kid so nice to _finally_ hear from you,” Tony’s voice came through the phone, a hint of relief in his voice, “I was just thinking about sending you a new phone since apparently, yours wasn’t working, but I guess it is now. You know next ti- “

“ Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted “Can I use the lab?”

“I’m sorry what did you just say? You completely ignore all mine and Happy’s texts and calls for nearly a month and now you finally call just for my lab? No ‘sorry for ignoring you Mr. Stark, that was super shitty of me’ no explanation of where you’ve been,” Tony’s voice rising slightly.

“I know Mr. Stark and I’m sorry, but this is really, _really_ important,” Peter can hear how high and whiny his voice sounds and mentally hates himself for it.

"Alright fine kid," Tony sighs, "I'll send Happy to get you." Tony ends the call and Peter flops down onto his bed, a warm feeling in his chest. This was going to work, he was going to be able to go back on testosterone and it would actually keep working and he would finally feel more like a real boy and everything would finally, _finally_ work out. He wipes at the tears that he didn’t realize had formed and starts laughing, overwhelmed with happiness and relief. His phone vibrates with a message from Happy, letting Peter know he’s outside. Peter shoves his notebook into his backpack and hurries out of his room, out of his apartment, and down the stairs to the car where Happy is waiting.

This is going to work.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [teˈstästəˌrōn] noun  
> A steroid hormone that stimulates development of male secondary sexual characteristics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning(s) for this particular chapter:  
> \- Gender Dysphoria  
> \- T slur 
> 
> This chapter has a lot more angst than the last one so just be prepared!
> 
> This fic isn't totally canon with the events of SM:HoCo but I'm drawing more from the characters' personalities and such and a little from the events.

* * *

 

40 minutes later (Happy had already been in the area ~~checking for signs of Peter~~ running an errand for Tony, so picking Peter up had only taken about 5 minutes), Happy pulls the car up to the compound. Peter had been buzzing with excited energy for the entire trip, as soon as the car stops he flys out, barely remembering to shout a ‘thank you’ to Happy. He runs up to the door and forces himself to pause and take a breath before walking in.

“Good evening, Mr. Parker,” FRIDAY chimes when Peter walks in, “Boss is waiting for you in the lab.”

“Thank yo- wait Mr. Stark is in the lab?” Peter falters. Of course he would be in the lab, why wouldn’t he be? But Peter needs to work on this himself, he isn’t ready to explain his “situation” to Mr. Stark.

“Yes, he is,” FRIDAY replies, pulling Peter out of his thoughts, “should I tell him you want him to leave?”

“No!” Peter says too quickly, “I mean, it's okay I’ll just talk to him when I get there.”

He gets into the elevator and starts to pace.

“Okay, Peter. Okay, this is fine,” Peter mumbles to himself, “I can handle this. I just need to go in there, make this formula, and then go. He doesn’t need to know. You can do this Peter.”

The elevator dings open and Peter rushes to the lab.

“Well, if it isn’t the Spider-kid,” Tony says as Peter walks into the lab, “here to apologize for the last month of radio silence I’m sure.”

“I know, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry,” Peter’s cheeks flush red, “but I was just busy with some other stuff. So, can I start working now?”

Tony rubs a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, okay. What are we working on kid?”

“I – wait what?” Peter feels the panic rising in his chest, “Mr. Stark no, it’s alright I can handle it I don’t need help.”

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. Are you trying to kick  _me_ out of _my_ lab?”

“No not at all Mr. – Mr. Stark. It's just I’m not really _working_ on anything, per se, I’m just mixing some things together and well I thought that it would be safer to do it in the lab and plus there’s all the measuring equipment. It really shouldn’t even take that much time really,” Peter rambles, not looking Tony in the eye.

“Alright, alright kid calm down. Can you at least tell me what it is you’re working on?”

Peter’s head is screaming for him to lie, but what would he even say? That it’s a school project? Surely Mr. Stark knows school's out for the summer and plus why wouldn’t he just do the project at the school’s lab. He has to tell the truth.

“It’s just some medicine I have to take.” (At least part of the truth).

“Medicine?”

“Uh yeah it uh I was taking it before the the whole spider thing and so now it metabolizes too fast and so I figured out this uh this new formula to make it work still,” Peter stumbles through his explanation.

“Jesus okay kid. Want me to look over the formula or something?”

“No!” Peter nearly shouts, “I mean uh no uh no thank you, Mr. Stark, its alright I can handle it.”

“Alright, well then I guess since you aren’t making crack or anything in here I can leave you to it. If you need anything just have FRIDAY call me alright?” Tony starts walking towards the door.

“Okay yeah cool. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem kid,” Tony says, walking out of the lab.

As soon as Tony leaves the lab, Peter practically collapses.

“Okay okay breathe idiot,” he whispers to himself.

Once he catches his breath, he moves over to one of the lab counters. He sets his backpack on the counter and takes out his notebook and the chemicals he managed to get from his school’s lab. He grabs a few supplies from the lab’s cabinet and sets them down.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

An hour and a half later and Peter is anxiously pacing on the ceiling of the lab. The timer he had set dings and Peter jumps down, faltering a bit as he rushes to the counter. He had mixed up his formula (a deep blue color) and had mixed together a substance to replicate his blood and metabolism (a light-yellow color). When the two were thoroughly mixed, he knew he had to let it sit for a while. Now time is up, and it’s time to see if his formula’s working. He walks over to the counter and grabs the fabric he used to cover the container (he knew if it weren’t covered, he would have spent the entire time watching the mixture).

“Here goes everything,” he says, pulling the fabric away.

He brings the container up to his eye level, desperately scanning for the blue mixture, for any sign that it hasn’t metabolized. There’s none. The formula he had worked so hard on, the formula he needed so badly to work, had failed.

“No,” he whispers still desperately scanning the container, “no no no.”

“FRIDAY,” Peter practically shouts, panic rising in his throat, “FRIDAY scan this for the element C₁₉H₂₈O₂”

“The mixture appears to have no trace of the element C₁₉H₂₈O₂,” FRIDAY replies after a moment.

“No, _no!_ ” Peter cries, throwing the container at the wall, not even attempting to keep his strength under control. The container shatters leaving a large dent in the wall where it hit, the mixture splashing everywhere.

_You failed,_ the voice in his head starts screaming at him, _you just fucked up your only chance!_

Peter’s breathing starts to quicken as angry tears run down his cheeks.

_You blew it! You’ll never be a man now! You’ll always be a girl!_

“No, no, fuck _fuck_!” Peter yells, throwing more containers against the wall, not even caring about the dents or the glass now littering the floor.

“Mr. Parker, it appears you are in distress,” FRIDAY says, startling Peter, “I am required via protocol to conta- “

“ _MUTE!”_ Peter yells at the ceiling, throwing the last of the containers against the wall.

The angry tears come even faster as he grabs his notebook and rips it in half, slamming both halves back onto the counter. He can faintly hear FRIDAY announcing the situation to Tony, but it feels miles away.

_Girlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirl_

He needs to breathe.

_Failurefailurefailurefailurefailurefailure_

He can’t breathe.

He can hear Tony’s footsteps coming down the hallway.

“FRIDAY lock the door,” Peter yells, unable to conceal the hysteria in his voice.

“My apologies, Mr. Parker, but you don’t have the authorization to lock the door to the lab.”

Peter grabs a stool from one of the lab stations and throws it towards the door with a frustrated yell.

“Stupid, _stupid!_ ” he yells, tugging at his hair.

“Kid?” Tony is standing in the doorway, “FRIDAY told me you were having a tough time, is everything alright?”

_Kid_

_What a perfectly gender-neutral name_

_He knows you’re a freak_

_He knows you’re a tranny_

_He knows, and he’s disgusted_

_You failed you failed you failed_

_Girlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirlgirlgi-_

“Kid?”

“Don’t call me that,” Peter says, frustration dripping from his voice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tony says, not bothering to hide his confusion.

“I said, don’t _call_ me that,” Peter grabs another stool, throwing it towards the door and then webbing himself up to the ceiling in a quick motion.

“Okay, Parker, what the _hell_ is going on?” Tony says, barely dodging the stool.

_He won’t even use your name_

_You failed you failed_

_YOU FAILED_

“I _fucked_ up and ruined _every_ thing and now I’m _leaving_ ” Peter yells down from the ceiling, shooting a web down to get his backpack.

“Woah, Woah Peter calm down, what’s going on?” Tony says, pressing a hand to his forehead, trying to figure out what the _fuck_ is happening.

“I said I’m _LEAVING_ ,” Peter ran towards the doorway. He jumps down and runs out of the room, down the hall, down a set of stairs and out of the compound into the night.

“FRI, what the hell just happened?” Tony says, standing in the middle of the lab.

“I am not entirely sure, Sir, but it appears that Mr. Parker’s experiment did not turn out the way he’d wanted.”

“Yeah you could say that again,” Tony mumbles to himself, moving towards the counter Peter had been working at, “have Happy keep an eye on him but tell him to let the kid have his space. Just make sure he gets back home alright.”

“Will do, Sir.”

He sees the notebook (or rather pieces of the notebook) on the counter and holds them together, trying to make sense of Peter’s notes.

“C₁₉H₂₈O₂, why does that sound familiar?” Tony says, looking through the notes, “FRI, what chemical is that?”

“The chemical C₁₉H₂₈O₂ is more commonly known as testosterone.”

“Medicine, my ass, kid. Now, what the hell were you trying to do here?” Tony looks through some of the older versions of Peter’s formula, trying to work out what problem he was trying to solve.

“If I may, Sir, Mr. Parker seemed to be testing how fast his formula metabolizes. Perhaps he was trying to slow the process?” FRIDAY says, trying to help fill in the blanks.

“Yeah maybe,” Tony says, still thinking, “FRIDAY call Dr. Banner for me. Tell him I need him to come and help me with a project asap.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tony may not totally understand what was happening with Peter, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to help.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to update!! I was out of town so I didn't have access to my computer which had my work on it! Leave a comment if you'd like! Constructive criticism is always welcome or just nice comments are rad too! If people are interested, I'll keep adding to this!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [teˈstästəˌrōn] noun  
> A steroid hormone that stimulates development of male secondary sexual characteristics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning(s) for this particular chapter:  
> \- Vomit mention (barely)
> 
> This fic isn't totally canon with the events of SM:HoCo but I'm drawing more from the characters' personalities and such and a little from the events.

* * *

 

Peter’s feet hit the pavement as he runs out of the building. His bag slaps against his back as he is running, jogging, walking back towards his apartment. He only lasts about ten minutes until the exhaustion from his meltdown and the lack of food he’d been eating caught up with him. He stops and finds himself on a bridge. He rests his hands on the cool metal railing, trying to catch his breath, the air heavy with the smell of wet coins and dark clouds. He leans over the railing and dry heaves. He stands back up, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, and searches his bag for his wallet, deciding it would probably be safer for him to take the bus or the subway or something with wheels to get him back to his apartment.

_"Of course, I don’t have it,"_ he thinks, dropping his bag, " _o_ _f fucking course."_

He puts his elbows on the railing, condensation seeping into his sleeves, and rests his head in his hands. Tears start trailing down his cheeks and he swipes angrily at them.

“Fuck,” he says, slamming a fist onto the railing, leaving a dent.

He (gently) kicks his backpack and hops up onto the railing, standing next to the dent.

“You aren’t gonna jump are you Parker?” a voice says from somewhere behind him.

“Hey Happy,” Peter mumbles, not looking down at him.

“So, you aren’t gonna jump right?” Peter hears him moving closer.

“No Happy,” he says, reaching up to grab one of the cables, not sure what else to do with his hands.

Happy hums in response. He walks over to the railing and leans next to where Peter is standing.

“You need a ride?”

“No,” Peter says, a little harsher than he intended but he really doesn’t care at this point, “don’t need a babysitter either,” he adds quietly.

“What was that Parker?”

“Nothing, it was nothing, Happy, just leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that kid,” Happy says with a sigh.

“Whatever,” Peter says, feeling his anger from earlier rising again in his throat at the nickname.

_There it is again, the perfectly gender-neutral name_

_Even Happy doesn’t know what the hell you are_

_A Freak_

_Freakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreak_

Peter clenches and unclenches his fist, trying to slow his brain down.

_Breathe idiot just breathe,_ Peter thinks to himself.

“Come on kid, it’s late,” Happy says looking up at him.

“Just stop, Happy, I’m fine, just need a minute and then I’ll just just walk home.”

As if on cue, the sky breaks open and it starts to rain, coupled with loud claps of thunder.

Peter sighs, trying to wipe some of the rain from his face, and looks down at the river beneath him.

“Look you don’t have to talk. It’s just a ride. I got a job to try and keep here,” Happy says looking up at him.

Peter hums in response, gives one last look at the river and hops back down onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” Peter says, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder.

They walk in silence towards the car, Happy walking quickly to get out of the rain and Peter practically dragging his feet behind him. Happy throws open the door of the car and quickly gets in as Peter throws his backpack in and then stumbles into his seat.

“Just back to the tower then?” Happy says, turning the heat up.

“What? No,” Peter says, with more venom than he intended.

_Don’t even want to be in this stupid car,_ Peter  
thinks, forcing himself not to kick the seat in front of him.

“Alright, where to then?”

“Don’t care,” Peter mumbles, putting his head in his hands.

“To your apartment then,” Happy says quietly, putting the car into drive.

 

* * *

 

 

“So the kid’s on steroids?” Tony asks, coffee cup in one hand, a copy of Peter’s notes in the other.

“Well, sort of,” Bruce says, looking at his own copy of Peter’s notes, “testosterone is a steroid hormone but I don’t necessarily think he’s taking it just to bulk up or anything.”

“Well, then what could it be for?”

“I think- well nevermind,” Bruce says, running a hand through his hair.

“What? What is it Banner?”

“Well another possibility is that Peter is, well he might be, it’s possible that he’s-”

“Banner spit it out.”

“Peter may be transgender.”

“Transgender?” Tony breathes, setting his coffee and notes down.

“I mean I don’t know for sure, but that may be the reason he’s taking testosterone. I mean of course it could be something else but it’s definitely a possibility but of course, it could be any number of-”

“Alright alright Doc I get it,” Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’ll handle that once we figure this out.”

“Alright we can do that,” Bruce says, “and with all due respect Tony, I don’t think there’s anything for you to _handle_ about Peter being transgender.”

“Right, right, poor choice of words,” Tony takes a drink out of his mug, rubbing the nape of his neck, “I just, I meant- you know what nevermind, let’s just get to work.”

“Alright, Tony,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, “so what do you think we’ve gotta do here?”

“Well, it seems like he was trying to get the testosterone to beat out his metabolism, right?”

“Yeah I uh I think so, but it looks like, at least if I’m reading these notes correctly, it looks like Peter was just trying to make the testosterone stronger.”

“Which wouldn’t really help right?”

“Right. But I think we can make a formula that can change the solubility of it,”

“Then maybe it won’t be absorbed so quickly.”

“Precisely. I don’t know how long he’s aiming for it to last but we could maybe get it to where he can take these injections and the effects will last for about a week? Maybe a bit more but--”

“But the kid needs this stuff ASAP,” Tony says with a sigh.

“Yeah and if we want to get this to him soon we’ll probably just need to focus on getting it to last at least a week,” Bruce fixes his glasses and takes another look at the notes.

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands together, “let’s get to work then.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments and for over 100 kudos!!!! It makes my heart warm and encourages me to keep writing :') I just told someone that this fic would only be four chapters max but that's probably going to change. Doing these short chapters is a bit easier for me especially with my busy schedule and it means that I can update more often (hopefully!) I have a bit more in mind for this fic than can fit in only one more of these chapters so now I'm not sure how many there will be. Hopefully this is okay with all of y'all!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [teˈstästəˌrōn] noun  
> A steroid hormone that stimulates development of male secondary sexual characteristics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning(s) for this particular chapter:  
> -Passive suicidal thoughts (super light)
> 
> This fic isn't totally canon with the events of SM:HoCo but I'm drawing more from the characters' personalities and such and a little from the events.

* * *

 

The rain falls heavy against the windows of the car as Peter rests his head against the glass, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle and curling into himself. What would normally only be about a twenty-minute drive starts to stretch into a thirty-, forty-, fifty-minute drive thanks to the rain and an unusual amount of traffic. Happy’s keeping a one-sided conversation about everything and nothing with Peter occasionally offering one-word replies. Peter’s stares with intensity at the raindrops on the window as if all the world’s answers are there as he’s trying to tune out Happy’s voice from the front seat.

“You know the weather report only said there was a fifteen percent chance of rain today,” Happy says.

Peter just hums in response, not taking his eyes off the window.

“I never really liked the rain, you like the rain, Parker?”

“ ‘S fine.”

“I always did like the smell of rain though. Very refreshing and relaxing. I once heard there was a certain name for it but of course, I can never remember the word.”

“Petrichor,” Peter mumbles.

“What was that Parker?” Happy glances back at him.

“Smell of rain. Petrichor,” Peter says in complete monotone, locking eyes with Happy.

“Ah, that’s right. Petrichor. Where’d you learn that one?”

Peter just shrugs, whether it’s because he doesn’t have an answer or doesn’t  _ want _ to answer Happy isn’t sure, and looks back out the window.

“Right, well anyway, I always thought I’d get used to it and I do think it’s starting to grow on me, but you know sometimes it can be really relaxing. Driving can be a nightmare though especially in storms like this,” his sentence is punctuated with a loud clap of thunder causing Peter to flinch, hands clenching with the urge to cover his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut, giving himself a chance to try and focus his hearing, trying to calm his senses. He can hear every part of the car moving, every part of every car moving, every mechanical piece that’s under the hood can hear the electricity in the air and he just needs to breathe and focus. He lets out a shaky breath, clenching and unclenching his fists until the sound narrows in back inside the car and he realizes Happy has pulled over and is talking to him.

“-ed to take you back to the tower?”

Peter’s eyes are still closed, and he slowly shakes his head.

“Peter?”

“ ‘M fine”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Peter replies through gritted teeth.

“Here hold on a second,” Happy says and pushes some buttons on a device. With a soft click, the second layer of glass slides up along each of the windows and everything in the car is silent, even the engine is silent. Peter slowly opens his eyes, looking around the car.

“Sound-proofing. Probably shouldn’t use it all the time but I figured now was a good time to try it out,” Happy says, looking at Peter in the mirror.

“Thanks,” Peter says, relaxing slightly.

Happy pulls back onto the road, throwing another glance in the mirror.

Peter leans forward, resting his head in his hands.

“This is the first car that got the sound-proofing but soon it’ll be in all of the cars Boss has. You know, just in case,” Happy says.

Peter just sits back up and hums in response, putting his head back against the window.

“Right so we’re back to not talking again,” Happy says, mostly to himself.

Peter can feel his cheeks heating up and he wraps his arms around himself again.

“Well anyway, there’s also going to be a way you can turn it on yourself from the back seat and apparently there’s going to be quite a few other tech things set up back there. GPS, radio, TV, internet other stuff like that but I’m not quite sure when that’s going to be probably after the soundproofing is set up in the other-”

“Why are you doing this?” Peter interrupts, sitting up.

“Doing what?”

“This, this whole,” Peter gestures vaguely, “I mean you never talk to me. So why are you doing this?”

“Well, I’m currently at about fifteen hours without sleep so I gotta stay awake somehow. Wouldn’t want to get us both killed, you know?” Happy says.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Peter mumbles.

Happy stops the car abruptly at the stoplight, bringing a sharp honk from the car behind them (not that either of them heard it). He looks at Peter in the rearview mirror.

“Well I don’t think the boss would be very thrilled if either of us weren’t around,” Happy says, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Yeah maybe not,” Peter says with a sigh, not looking up at him.

Happy keeps his eyes on the mirror, long after the light has turned green much to the annoyance of the drivers behind them.

“Right well. Just remember that, alright ki-Peter?”

Peter mumbles something resembling an ‘alright’ and turns his body closer to the door.

Happy finally pulls through the intersection, opting to continue the drive in silence. Peter keeps staring out the window, thankful for the total silence. He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until he hears Happy trying to get his attention.

“-ter? Peter, we’re here,” Happy is saying, turning the car off.

Peter runs a hand through his hair and grabs his backpack. Happy opens Peter’s door and he slides out and quickly walks towards the entrance of the apartment.

“Parker wait,” Happy says, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Peter reluctantly turns around, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Just, uh take care of yourself alright?” Happy says, giving Peter’s shoulder a light squeeze.

Peter gives a slight nod and shrugs out of Happy’s grasp, almost positive that there’s now some type of tracker on his shoulder but at this point, he doesn’t care, it’s not like he’s going anywhere anyway, and he makes his way up to his apartment.

“Bye Happy,” he mumbles out.

“Good night Peter.”

Peter slowly makes his way up to his apartment and slips through the front door. He sets his bag down by the door, grabs a blanket from the closet in the hallway, and curls up beneath it on the couch. Beneath the blanket he lets out violent, shaking sobs that pierce through the quiet apartment. That’s where May finds him half-an-hour later (or maybe it’s been half a day, Peter can’t tell) when the sobs have subsided and there are just loud sniffles coming from under the blanket. She drops her things by the door and goes to kneel by the pile on the couch.

“Peter?” May says, raising a hesitant hand to rest on his back, “Peter what’s going on honey?”

“I couldn’t do it,” he says, not moving from beneath the blanket.

“Couldn’t do what?” May gently places her hand on what she assumes is his back, but removes it when he flinches.

“Couldn’t fix the formula. Can’t make it work. The testosterone won’t work,” he says, tears thick in his throat.

“Oh Peter,” May says, putting her hand on the couch next to him.

“Never gonna be a boy, May. Never gonna be a boy, never gonna be a boy,” he says, his breathing becoming shallow.

“Peter honey you need to breathe okay? Can you breathe for me?” May says, moving her hand closer, desperate to comfort him.

“May, May I’m never gonna be- never gonna be a boy. Not a-not a real boy,” he says between shallow breaths.

“Peter. Peter listen to me okay, you need to breathe.”

“I couldn’t fix it,” he says, sliding a shaky hand out from under the blanket.

“I know honey. I know,” she holds Peter’s hand in her’s, “I’m here with you okay?”

Peter takes as deep a breath as he can manage.

“I couldn’t do it,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing small circles over the back of his hand, “it’s okay. You’re still my Peter. You’ll always be my Peter.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this little project of mine!! I know I said I would try and post more often but I've been working more than usual and I hit a bit of writer's block with this particular chapter. I think this is the only chapter that I've gone back and scrapped entire bits of to replace with something else. Hopefully y'all like it!! Let me know what you think about having only Peter's POV for this chapter! Do you like it or do you prefer Peter and Tony sections like the last chapter? Also let me know if anything is super ooc! I'm always open to feedback! I'm hoping to get the next bit up sooner! Thanks again!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [teˈstästəˌrōn] noun  
> A steroid hormone that stimulates development of male secondary sexual characteristics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning(s) for this particular chapter:  
> \- Mentions of suicidal thoughts
> 
>  
> 
> This fic isn't totally canon with the events of SM:HoCo but I'm drawing more from the characters' personalities and such and a little from the events.

* * *

 

**Today**

 

**Happy Hogan:** _Hey boss. I just dropped_ _the kid_ _Peter off at his apartment. He was up on the Queensboro._

~~_ What the hell happened with him? _ ~~

**Tony Stark:** ~~_What do you mean he was on the Queensboro??_~~

~~_ Is he okay?? _ ~~

~~_ How is he? _ ~~

_ I thought I told you to give him space _

**HH:** _ He looked like he was about to jump off the damn bridge. _

_ I know but  _ ~~_ HE WAS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF THE DAMN BRIDGE _ ~~ _ it started pouring and he  _ ~~_ looked fucking exhausted _ ~~ _ seemed like he really needed the ride. He looked  _ ~~_ dead on his feet _ ~~ _ like he would have stayed there all night.  _

~~_ Hardly said anything the whole ride _ ~~

_ He seemed okay in the car. Had to use the soundproofing at one point  _ ~~_ he was going into overload _ ~~ _ but I think he’s alright. Put a tracker on him before he went inside. His aunt is still at work _

~~_ I’m about two seconds from going up there to check on him _ ~~

**TS:** ~~_So you left him there alone??_~~

~~_ Why wouldn’t you bring him back here?? _ ~~

~~_ I swear to god if anything happens to him _ ~~

**HH:** _ His aunt just pulled up. The tracker says he’s still in the building so hopefully they’ll talk.  _

**TS:** ~~_ Oh thank God _ ~~

~~_ Good _ ~~

_ Yeah hopefully. _

**HH:** _ Should I stay in the area tonight?  _

**TS:** ~~_ Yes _ ~~

~~_ Please _ ~~

~~_ Dear God please watch out for him _ ~~

~~_ Make sure he’s okay _ ~~

_ No it’s alright. He still has the tracker on him? _

**HH:** ~~_ He was on a bridge, Stark. _ ~~

~~_ He seemed like he wanted to die. _ ~~

~~_ He said it wouldn’t matter if he died. _ ~~

~~_ The chatterbox barely said six words the whole ride. _ ~~

~~_ I really think I should stay _ ~~

_ Yes sir. _

**TS:** _Go home Hap, get some rest._

~~_ Thank you _ ~~  
  


 

* * *

 

**Friday, June 9th**

 

**May Parker:** _ Could you ask P to get some milk on his way home? He left his phone here when he left for the lab. Thank you :) _

 

**Today**

 

**TS:** ~~_Is the kid alright?_~~

~~_ Is Peter alright? _ ~~

~~_ May, I need to ask- _ ~~

~~_ May, I hate to ask- _ ~~

~~_ May, I hate to intrude- _ ~~

~~_ May is Peter transgender? _ ~~

~~_ May is Peter trans? _ ~~

~~_ Why is he taking the testosterone? _ ~~

~~_ Does he need anything? _ ~~

~~_ Is there anything I can do to help his- _ ~~

~~_ Is there anything I can do? _ ~~

~~_ Is he alright? _ ~~

 

* * *

 

**Yesterday**

 

**TS:** _ Kid why don’t you come work in the lab this weekend? _

~~_ I’m worried about you _ ~~

 

**Today**

 

**TS:** ~~_ Peter what the hell happened? _ ~~

~~_ Peter what happened? _ ~~

~~_ Peter are you okay? _ ~~

~~_ Peter you can tell me what’s going on _ ~~

~~_ How dare you- _ ~~

~~_ You don't get to- _ ~~

~~_ You aren't allowed to- _ ~~

~~_ You have to- _ ~~

~~_ Please just stick it out _ ~~

~~_ Are- _ ~~

~~_ Are you- _ ~~

~~_ It doesn’t matter you know _ ~~

~~_ You’re still Peter you know _ ~~

~~_ This doesn’t change anything  _ ~~

~~_ Whatever this is, I still don’t know but it could be possible _ ~~

~~_ Peter you’re strong, stronger than me _ ~~

~~_ You can get throu- _ ~~

~~_ We can- _ ~~

~~_ You can get through this _ ~~

~~_ Just tell me what you need, I can help  _ ~~

~~_ I'm working on- _ ~~

~~_ Bruce and I are working on- _ ~~

~~_ Bruce is working with your formula now, thinks he can get it to work _ ~~

~~_ Anything you need Peter _ ~~

~~_ Peter are you alright? _ ~~

~~_ Peter are you okay? _ ~~

~~_ Peter is there anything you need? _ ~~

~~_ Peter are you okay? _ ~~

~~_ Peter _ ~~

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?? Two updates in a week???? This is just like a little transition type chapter? Almost like a chapter 4.5 This chapter is supposed to be a series of text messages from Tony to Happy, May, and Peter. The lines that have a slash through are ones that the sender typed (or started to type) but did not actually send. I hope you all enjoy it and feel free to leave a comment! Or if you have a question about the fic or if you have a request for a specific tag(?) or if you would like me to add particular trigger warnings in the future or if you have any requests for future fics, I have an email just for fic related stuff! It's buck.arachnophobic@gmail.com !! I also have a Tumblr: http://what-the--heckie.tumblr.com/ !!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [teˈstästəˌrōn] noun  
> A steroid hormone that stimulates development of male secondary sexual characteristics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning(s) for this particular chapter:  
> \- None! :')
> 
> This fic isn't totally canon with the events of SM:HoCo but I'm drawing more from the characters' personalities and such and a little from the events.

* * *

 

Tony stares down at the device in his hand, desperately trying to wrap his head around what was going on with Peter. He sets it down on the table, tapping his pointer finger idly. He drags a hand down his face and turns towards Bruce.

“So you really think he might be…?” 

“Transgender? I mean like I said it’s a possible explanation for the testosterone, but there’s no real way for me to know for sure,” Bruce explains, not taking his eyes off the notes.

“You think he’s alright?” Tony asks, voice wavering slightly.

“Tony,” Bruce exhales, setting the notes down, “I’m sure he’s fine and even if I knew for sure what was going on, I don’t think it would be my place to tell you, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. Yeah I know,” Tony says “ I just want to help the ki- Pete- nevermind, have you got anything?” 

“I think I do,” Bruce says, walking over to Tony, “look here. So I think Peter’s formula actually just increased the strength of the testosterone, which-”

“Which wouldn’t do much in the long run,” Tony finished.

“Right. It would make the effects stronger at first but it wouldn’t last any longer than the original formula.  He didn’t actually inject any of it did he?”

“I’m not sure, FRI?”

“Mr. Parker did not inject himself with the formula,” FRIDAY says.

“That’s good. I think this formula would have caused some serious problems for him,” Bruce says with a sigh, “I think we can use what he came up with to decrease the solubility. Then hopefully it won’t be absorbed so quickly.”

“And you think it’ll work?” Tony asks, looking at the notes over Bruce’s shoulder.

“It should,” Bruce says, jotting some notes down on a piece of paper. 

“Well let’s get to it,” Tony says, clapping Bruce on the back.

* * *

 

 

“Peter, please just drink a little bit of water. I don’t want you to get dehydrated,” May says, kneeling next to the lump of Peter on the couch, glass of water in hand. Hours have passed since he got back to the apartment and he has yet to move from his spot on the couch. Every time he thinks he’s done crying, the tears start up again. His limbs are sore from being curled up and he’s sweating under the blanket but he doesn’t make any effort to leave the couch. 

“No thanks,” he mumbles.

“I know Peter, I know but please just try to drink a little bit,” May coaxes, placing a hand where she’s determined his shoulder is. 

“M’fine,” he says, his voice wavering.

“Okay,” May says with a sigh, setting the glass on the coffee table, “I’m leaving the water here though, if you change your mind, okay?”

Peter hums in response, shifting slightly under the blanket. 

“Peter?” May asks quietly, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just wanna be alone,” Peter says, voice soaking into the blanket.

“Okay. Okay Peter. I can do that, but you need anything I’ll be here okay. Just down the hall okay?” 

“Okay,” Peter says, sliding his hand out from under the blanket. May holds his hand for moment and gives it a squeeze before standing up. She hovers by the couch briefly  and then Peter can hear her footsteps walking down the hallway. Peter pulls his hand back under the blanket, cutting himself off from the world so he could be alone. 

And he was alone. He was alone on the couch, under that blanket for two days without moving. He was vaguely aware of May coming in and out of the living room, checking on him, trying to get him to drink water or eat even just a little bit of food, each time being met with silence or occasionally a shake of the head. But she keeps trying anyway, every hour or so, wanting to give him space but wanting to keep him healthy. Sometimes Peter can sense her standing in the hallway, just watching him, and he wants to just yell and scream at her to go away and leave him alone or maybe he wants to sob while she holds him and tells him everything will be okay but instead he just stares into the dark underneath the blanket, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He falls in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of how much time was passing. Sometime during the second day he hears May saying something about something being left for him at the door, saying she’ll leave it on the table for him. Peter vaguely mutters something resembling an okay or maybe a thank you, but doesn’t make any move to see what it is.

It’s another day and a half before Peter finally moves. May is working a double shift and the apartment is soaking up the quiet and the dark of 1am. He slowly pushes the blanket back, letting the cool air hit him before he slowly pulls himself into a sitting position. He stretches his arms and legs, trying to work the aching feeling out of his limbs. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to rub the emotion out of his eyes. He puts his hands on his knees leaning forward. 

“Shower,” he whispers, letting out a shaky breath, “I should shower.”

He takes a slow breath in and stands up, wobbling a little with his aching legs. He walks to room to grab some different clothes, before walking to the bathroom. He keeps the lights turned off and he turns the shower on, as hot as it can go, and sits on top of the counter. He waits until the last possible moment to take off his dirty clothes.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters to himself, stepping into the hot shower.

He finishes his shower, which consisted more of him standing under the water in the dark as opposed to actually  _ showering _ , he then puts on the clean clothes without drying off and walks back into the living room. He gets some water from the kitchen, taking small sips as he leans against the counter, listening to the quiet drips as the water from his hair hits the counter and stares into his glass. He can feel tears building up in the back of his throat, and he clears his throat trying to force them back. He glances up and he notices a small black case with a yellow sticky note on it sitting on the coffee table. He remembers what May had said about something being left for him and he sets down his glass. He slowly walks over to the coffee table, slowly kneeling down in front of the case. He gently removes the sticky note with a shaky hand, to read the precise writing.

_  This belongs to you _

_ T.S  _

He puts the sticky note on the table and sets the case down on its side. He rests his fingers on the latches and presses the buttons on each to release them. The case pops open with a click, releasing a small breath of condensation. He lifts the top open to reveal a small slip of paper and four small vials each with the words “Peter Parker’s Testosterone” printed on them in small writing.

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” Peter breathes, gently putting his fingertips to the vials. He takes the paper out and gently unfolds it. 

_ Peter, _

__ _ We haven’t officially met, my name is Bruce Banner. Tony called me for help with your formula, which was pretty impressive if I might add. The formula you had created increased the strength of the chemical but would not have done much in terms of the chemicals solubility, which is what the formula Tony and I created should affect. I was able to use your formula to jumpstart ours though so thank you for that. This new formula should work with your advanced metabolism and you should see changes beginning at a regular rate after a couple days. The dose should last for about a week just like a standard formula would, though with your permission I would like to monitor your vitals and your progress with this formula and then make any necessary changes. Good luck Mr. Parker. _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ _ Dr. Bruce Banner _

“Thank you,” he whispers to the paper, “thank you.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah! I'm so so sorry for the delay in the update! My computer got broken and so I was left trying to shove writing sessions into 30-60minute visits at the library but it's here!! The last chapter!!! I hope you all have enjoyed this little project of mine! I will be adding to the series more so keep an eye out for that! Feel free to leave a comment! Or if you have a question about the fic or if you have a request for a specific tag(?) or if you would like me to add particular trigger warnings in the future or if you have any requests for future fics, I have an email just for fic related stuff! It's buck.arachnophobic@gmail.com !! I also have a Tumblr: http://what-the--heckie.tumblr.com/ !!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you'd like! Constructive criticism is always welcome or just nice comments are rad too! If people are interested, I'll keep adding to this!!


End file.
